


Four Walls

by AdotHann



Series: Hamilton Kingsman Drabbles [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Kingsman Fusion, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Found Family, Gen, M/M, Multi, Sappy as fuck, Slice of Life, sort of sad but with a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 02:58:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11911779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdotHann/pseuds/AdotHann
Summary: Alexander thinks that the free house is probably the worst part of being a Kingsman, until he doesn't.-(a.k.a. snapshots of how Alexander Hamilton settled into his new life and accidentally built himself a family.)





	Four Walls

Alex hadn't forgotten the turning point of joining Kingsman - the thing that had really set his heart on it. Being part of something bigger and actually Saving the world was everything he'd dreamed of, but at the time it had seemed too distant to be true.

The turning point had been the house.

He'd been so excited at the prospect; a fancy, uptown house of his very own. It hadn't just been a building, it was a chance at a better life for him and his family. A turn of fortune. A real life happily ever after. 

Turn of fortune indeed. 

By the time Kingsman actually sorted getting Alex a house, he had no one left to live with.

Alex was left alone in his huge, silent, empty house. That was the problem, really; it was just so bloody empty all the time. 

And it was always so quiet uptown. 

If he didn't think about his family he wouldn't miss them, he told himself. He still missed them, though. He missed everyone.

He missed his friends from before; the ones who couldn't separate him from his fancy clothes and his enormous Georgian terraced house anymore. The ones who, at the implication of money, had forgotten the lonely, bastard, orphan who they'd known before he upped and disappeared a few years ago. 

He even missed his trainee group. They'd been a bunch of prats, but they'd been company and they'd been noisy. The camaraderie that came with spending every hour, waking and sleeping, with a group of people that you trusted (if not necessarily liked,) was something he missed sorely.

They were long gone now; filtered off into the cushy jobs and expensive offices that Oxbridge degrees lead people to. There was still Jefferson, of course, but he was Jefferson.

 

* * *

 

Laurens helped. He was good company, and he understood how sharp the silence was.

Neither of them could have picked out a definite moment when John moved in. It was more like a slow migration stuff that started with his peppermint tea in one of Alex's cupboards and ended with Alex helping him drag his bed upstairs into one of the guest bedroom. 

Things had been better since Laurens moved in.

Once he asked John if he didn't have his own house. Instead of answering, he had picked at a loose edge of the cream the wall paper.

"I grew up with a lot of siblings." Laurens said. "We used to draw on the walls - drove dad livid. He'd go on and on about how we'd ruined his genuine William wallace prints." 

He'd left soon after, dispatched off to stop an arms dealer in Peru or something. Once again it was quiet uptown.  

Alex stared around at his own oppressively blank, characterless  walls and realised that Laurens words had been an answer of sorts after all.

 

* * *

 

It was Alex who started it really. 

In true George Washington style, he taped up a particularly hilarious front cover of the Sun (Is Your Phone Emitting Secret Messages for Dogs?) from one of the days after they'd secretly saved the world. It hung limply from two blobs of blue tack, dwarfed by the huge expanse of empty wall around it. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

Laurens pinned up a stunning oil pastel piece of his trip to Peru. It was a splash of bright colour a little to the left of Alex's newspaper clipping, and he fell in love with it instantly. It was followed by a beautiful watercolour of the Alps and a charcoal drawing of one of the radioactive turtles that some mad scientist there had been breeding. Alex thought he'd been too soft on it; the turtle in the picture looked like a normal turtle with a slightly misshapen shell, not the violent, 20ft monstrosity they'd had to fight. 

Sticky notes in a rainbow of colours began to appear; from "Don't forget to walk the dog," and "Buy more milk," to "Are burritos just really shy tacos?" and "If a tree falls in the forest and there's no one around, does Jefferson still sound like a whiny bitch? 

They weren't allowed cameras at work, for obvious reasons, Laurens did his best to sketch some of the more infamous and hilarious freeze frames from their missions; the time Jefferson and Alex had teamed up to stop someone stealing the Statue of Liberty; the time that Laf, Herc, John and Alex had successfully gone undercover as a teen heartthrob boy band; Peggy dowsing Jefferson with a fire extinguisher after he'd been bitten by a radioactive spider; Angelica knocking out evil-zombie-Margret-Thatcher. 

Alex began pinching Lafayette's (contraband) polaroids to add to the wall. They gained cheesy (and cleverly faked) 'tourist photos' from missions across the world. Laurens hoarded cut offs and swatches of fabric from Herc's shop, and he seemed to be using them to build up a rather spectacular collage in the corner by the sideboard. 

Eventually John just got out his acrylics and began painting directly onto the walls. The downstairs bathroom was quickly filled with a sweeping, mountain-sunset scene, and the Wall of Things was rapidly gaining painted doodles of anything that caught John's fancy.

Alex added his writing; poetry, smatterings of musical melodies and refrains, sheets of nonsensical notes, and mismatched paragraphs of essays that he never really intended to finish. It helped to get them off his head so that he could think clearly. 

Other people began to add things too.

Peggy delighted in finding posters for cheesy spy films and adding them to the growing wall. Angelica claimed that she was too mature for this sort of thing, but here and there the sparkly stickers that she kept in her desk draw began to appear on the wall. When Eliza came around and spotted the growing Wall of Things she added one of her famously neat little lists: 

_Kingsman Squad Movie Nights_

  * _My Fair Lady_
  * _Pretty Woman_
  * _The Man from Uncle_



It was almost two months (and during that time period the world nearly ends a grand total of eight times,) before they managed to shuffle everyone that Eliza deemed part of the squad (and Alex was only a little resentful that this included Jefferson and Madison, because no one could stay mad at Eliza for long,) into Alex's house and sat down in front of his outsized flatscreen to cross the first movie off of that list. 

All in all, it was a surprisingly good night. Lafayette had insisted on painting everyone's nails (and, as always, he'd done a stunning job.) After being pelted with popcorn by Laf and Peggy, Burr had actually voiced a vague opinion about the film. Plus Jefferson only tried to add Casino Royal to the movie list once, and barely argued when Angelica crossed it off. John and Eliza fell asleep curled up on either side of Alex and, for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was somewhere he could call home. 

 

* * *

 

_Kingsman Squad Movie Nights_

  * _~~My Fair Lady~~_
  * _Pretty Woman_
  * _The Man from Uncle_
  * _Four Weddings and a Funeral_
  * _Clue! (The Movie)_
  * _~~Casino Royal~~_
  * _Field of Dreams_
  * _All of the Harry Potter films_



* * *

 

Burr's house burnt down, so Alex loaned him his attic room. 

He still wouldn't offer opinions on anything (even what pizza toppings to get which was mildly infuriating,) but he began to add things to the wall; train tickets, post cards, post-it notes telling Alex to get more sleep or asking John to stop leaving his paints on the floor (Aaron had ruined his favourite pair of socks and trailed bright pink footprints up the stairs without noticing.)

"It'll be fine," John said uncertainly, "that kind of paint washes out. Usually."

(Alex thought the foot prints were hilarious. He didn't bother getting them removed. 

Aaron never really moved out. Alex had never expected him to.

 

* * *

 

It was unusual for there to not be at least one Schuler Sister in the house. 

Peggy often crashed there after tough missions, claiming that their place was closer than her's (it wasn't really, but she knew that John would carry her princess style and sometimes they all needed the extra company.) 

Angelica never bothered with excuses or explanations for why she was there. She just showed up whenever she felt like it (or, Alex thought, whenever the quiet got a little too much for her.) It wasn't unusual to come downstairs in the middle of the night and find her crashed on the couch or in the kitchen helping herself to a pint of whatever ice cream they had. Alex considered giving her a key more than once, but felt that she sort of enjoyed picking the locks. Besides, she had her own set of (incredibly snuggly) blankets and a change of clothes stored in one of the many mahogany draws in the sitting room, and that was as good a welcome as any.

Eliza dog sat when they were out on missions (and, often enough, when they were at home and she was missing their dogs.) She also spent plenty of time there just to be with John and Alex.

 

* * *

 

Lafayette and Herc never moved in the way that Aaron and John did, though Alex almost expected them to. But they were around almost as much as the Schuler Sisters.

Hercules would bring whatever he was sewing, or knitting or crocheting at the time and join Alex and John (and, more and more frequently, Aaron,) for trashy late night TV. 

Wherever Herc went, Lafayette followed (and, recently, Peggy wasn't far behind the pair either.)

 

* * *

 

Only one photo on the Wall of Things had a frame; a picture of all the young operatives together outside the tailor's shop. Everyone was decked out in their suits and glasses, and it really should have been a serious picture but here and there you could see smudges of character; Alex clasping Laurens and Eliza's hands, only just in view; the Schuler sisters were clustered a little closer together than everyone else, leaning into one another happily and unconsciously; for some inane and endearing reason Thomas was glaring daggers at Laf and Herc who both looked as if they were trying to smother their laughter; Madison was mid sneeze; and Washington stood behind them all, looking at his flock with the rare mixture of fond and exasperated that he saved for non life threatening situations after a full nights sleep. It was, in shorter terms, perfect.

Alex still missed everyone from his old life, and the silence still hurt. But the silence was fleeting and less frequent.

Sometimes they all had long missions, sometimes there was no one in the house, but it wasn't empty. The Wall of Things was still there, and Alex never felt quite so alone again.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I'm not sure either. Its ropey and messy and unstructured and awful but, much like Alex in this fic I had to write it down to get it out of my head.
> 
> Leave me comments anyway. Please. They motivate me to make my writing kinda better.


End file.
